Venus of Dreams (33 page)

He sighed. "You should know by now that I wouldn't give you away."

"Now, you come here and take me away from my work. I can't sit here talking to you. I have a discussion in a few minutes, and it's too late to get to it in person, so I'll have to use my screen. Maybe that seems like a small lapse to you, but here, they place importance on personal contact, since we have to be able to work together later."

"You're right," he said angrily. "I shouldn't have come. There are hostels in Caracas. I can find a bed at one until I leave. I can go back to Lincoln for a few days, see Benzi. He should feel that at least one of his parents doesn't see him as useless."

She turned back to her screen impatiently. Chen dressed quickly, then remembered the carving he had been planning to give her. He was about to pull it from the pocket where it had remained when Iris turned around again.

"I can't have you leave like this," she murmured. "Maybe you'll understand if I explain something to you. Chen, I'm struggling here. It was easy to think I was clever back in Lincoln. It's a little different when you're with others who were chosen. This place isn't just teaching us what we can do, but what's beyond us as well. At best, I'll get by and even get sent to the Project, not because I'm terribly wise or talented, but because they happen to need more people in my field there. At worst, I could fail, and then everything I've done will be useless."

"You're too hard on yourself."

She shook her head. "Oh, I had very grand dreams for myself once. I thought I might even do something original with my work. Well, I can see the patterns, but I can't make the leap beyond them to something new. That gift isn't inside me, and nothing will put it there. Angharad was right when she told me that my learning would bring me unhappiness. I might have been happier if I'd stayed in Lincoln. I could have always told myself that—"

"Would you really change it?" he asked.

"No, I guess not. Not even now." She blinked and wiped at her eyes. "Well, now you know what an imposter I really am. I sometimes think they made a mistake in choosing me."

"No they didn't." He stood near her and stroked her hair. "You knew it would be hard. They wouldn't give you the allotment if they thought you couldn't succeed. I'll go now. Don't worry. You'd better get back to your discussion."

She turned back to the screen. He was about to place the carving next to her, then decided to keep it. He had misunderstood her when he carved it. He had formed the face of a woman serene in her knowledge and disdainful of those who could not share it; to give her such a carving now would wound her.

He kissed her on the neck lightly before leaving. He would send her a message before he left Caracas, when he could think about his words before speaking them. He would tell her that he could wait, that his love was strong enough for that.

The floater rested in its cradle. Chen hurried down the ramp, nodding absently at the few shopkeepers claiming shipments, and made his way toward Lincoln. He would at last have some good news for Eric. Arla Goddell had paid handsomely for his carving of Iris, had asked for one of herself, and had spoken of friends who would pay for carvings. Almost without thinking, Chen had given her Eric's name and location, saying that she could make arrangements through the young shopkeeper.

The more Chen had thought of that impulsive gesture during his journey, the better an idea it had seemed. Eric could handle the commissions, send Chen images of those to be carved, make the shipments, keep the records. His business might revive when the rest of Lincoln heard that such folk were dealing with Eric. Chen hadn't stopped to think of how he himself would find time for the extra work; he would worry about that later.

He strode into the town square and hurried toward the tavern, expecting that Eric would be there and yet hoping that he wasn't present. He stopped in front of the tavern door and wiped his brow with one hand.

The door opened. He stepped into the darkened, cool room that was a refuge from the humid spring heat. "Where's Eric Constances?" he asked.

A man standing at the bar turned around. "The shopkeeper? Probably at the town hall. The Counselor's here—I saw Eric heading there earlier."

Chen had forgotten. He went outside and crossed the square. As he began to climb the steps, he heard a scream.

Suddenly, townsfolk were streaming out of the hall toward him. He stepped aside quickly to let them pass. "Go get Letty!" a woman cried. Someone was wailing. Chen looked up; Laiza was teetering at the top of the steps, as if about to fall.

He dropped his duffel and bounded up the steps to her. She pushed him away, and then fell against him; she was shaking as he gripped her shoulders. Letty Charlottes, followed by two women, was already running across the square carrying her bag; she scurried up the steps and entered the hall.

"What is it?" Chen managed to ask.

"It's Eric!" the young woman wailed. "It's Eric!" He shook her, but she said no more. He let go and Laiza stumbled away.

His throat was dry. He entered the hall, afraid of what he would see.

A few people were standing outside the Counselor's room. Letty emerged, the Counselor, David Annas, at her side. "I'm sorry to tell you this," she said to the small crowd. "He's dead. I don't know how it could have happened. David here says that it was sudden—one minute, Eric was speaking, and the next, he just fell to the floor. Poor Eric probably didn't even feel anything. David went to his side right away, but he saw that he was gone even before I was sent for. I won't know more until—"

David Annas was already leading the others away; he shook his head and murmured to them in soothing tones. Chen stared at the Counselor's broad back; his hands became fists.

Letty caught Chen's eye and motioned to him; he moved toward her. "I know he was your friend," the physician said. "It seems to have been a stroke, according to my med-scan. I don't understand it. He was so young. I scanned him not more than two months ago. I warned him to stop drinking and gave him some medication, but I don't suppose he took it. I told him I'd insist on an implant if he didn't, something that would make him ill if he touched a drop, but—" She sat down in one of the chairs, cradling her bag on her lap. "Not that it matters now. I don't know how I could have missed the signs. Somehow, I failed him."

"You couldn't have known," Chen said dully.

"I should have. It was my duty to know, to see the signs."

He knew he would find no weapon in the Counselor's room; David had no doubt disposed of it immediately before calling for help. Chen had come back to Lincoln too late; he had not realized the depth of Eric's rage and despair. He could imagine what David had told him, how sympathetic the Counselor had looked when he had said that it was time for Eric to give up his shop. Perhaps Eric had been prepared for that news.

He had failed his friend, failed the women caring for Benzi. Everything he had done had only brought Eric to his death. He wondered wildly what Eric had carried into the room with him—perhaps a small gun or knife, something easily concealed that would not be missed.

"I'll have to look at my records again," Letty was saying. "There has to be something I missed." Her eyes met his. "Poor Constance. You should go to her house right away. She'll need her friends now."

He stumbled from the hall. He was about to cross the square when he remembered his bag. He reached down for it and slung it over his shoulder. A few people had gathered in front of Fatima's shop; one of them called out to him as he passed. He ignored the caller and went on down the nearest road until he was in front of Angharad's house. He stared at the door, not knowing how he could bring himself to enter. A few neighbors had drifted into the road; he could not meet their eyes.

At last he went inside. The door to the common room opened as he entered. Constance was sitting in a chair near the screen, her face pale and still. LaDonna was standing next to her, holding a glass of whiskey. Constance shook her head and pushed the glass away. Angharad paced the room, wringing her hands.

Constance suddenly noticed Chen. A scream escaped her; she tore at her blond hair. LaDonna dropped the glass; it rolled on the rug, spilling its amber contents. Chen stiffened, imagining that Constance saw his guilt and was blaming him for her son's death. She can't know, he told himself as he backed toward the doorway.

LaDonna held Constance by her wrists as the blond woman continued to scream. Her hoarse cry lashed at Chen's ears as he watched helplessly.

Chen crept into the darkened town hall and stopped in front of the Counselor's room. He pressed his hand against the door; surprisingly, it opened. David Annas, Chen realized, probably did not know that Chen had been the one who had installed the deadly protective device; there was no need for him to know that, and no reason for David to change the lock.

Chen went inside. David would be at Angharad's house for a while longer. The door slid shut behind him as the ceiling lit up. The heavy curtains over the window were drawn; no one would see the light. He stood there for a moment, almost expecting the beam to take his own life, then went to the desk and sat down.

I'm a murderer, he thought. My hands killed him. He stared at his roughened palms. His finger punched a console button as he spoke the codes he still remembered.

He waited. At last Nancy Fassi's face appeared on the screen; her lids were heavy, swollen with sleep. He had known that she would accept the call.

"I know," she said without preliminaries. "I'm sorry. I was going to contact you tomorrow. I have news for you, Chen."

"I don't want your news. I have something to tell you."

"You'd better hear what I have to say first. We think it's time you went back to the Islands. You've done enough for us. We'll make arrangements as quickly as possible."

He gritted his teeth. He would not even have the chance to tell the Linker that he would do no more of her evil work. She had already anticipated his words and had taken away his chance to stand up to her.

"Really, it's best that you don't stay in the Plains now," she continued. "There are others who can continue the work. It's my hope, and this seems supported by the facts so far, that this was an isolated incident, and won't be repeated. Your bondmate and son can join you when Iris has finished her course of study—I know she'll be encouraged in her own work when she hears you'll be going to the Islands. There's a group of workers leaving for Venus soon." She gazed at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to show his gratitude.

He had his reward, bought with Eric's life. His dream was poisoned; he wished he had never dreamed it at all. He wanted to refuse the offer, and yet knew that he would not. He might even harden himself in time, accept the fact that he had only been a tool of the Nomarchies and that another tool would only have taken his place.

"You knew the man," she said petulantly. "Couldn't you have dissuaded him before this happened?"

"I didn't know he was thinking of this. Maybe it came to him suddenly, before he knew what he was doing." He glared at the screen. "At least you know that I didn't betray you. I'll be silent now too. These people have enough sorrow." If they knew the truth, he and David would face Lincoln's justice together; the town would then pay the price for its revenge. He could not bring the wrath of the Mukhtars down upon them, could not shatter their complacent community. Better to let them have peace, to think that Eric's death could not have been prevented.

"I'm sorry," Nancy said. "But I warned you about becoming too close to these people. You should never have—"

"Shut up." He turned away from the screen. "I did what you wanted. I knew what it might mean. I accepted it. I have to accept this too."

"You mustn't dwell on this. You'll feel different when you're back on the Islands. If your friend was so disturbed, he might only have brought more pain to others if he had lived. Perhaps he's at peace now."

"He's not at peace. He's dead. Don't pretend I'm some fool dreaming of a God and a heaven." He gripped the arms of the chair. "I'll take my reward. I did my best to earn it." You won't rule us on that world, he thought darkly. You won't spin your web there. I'll live long enough to do what I can to see that you don't.

"I have to go," she said. "I'll erase this message at my end. You'd better leave that room before the Counselor finds you there. You are in his room, aren't you? You can stay in Lincoln until we tell you which port to go to. I know it'll be hard, but I'm sure I can trust you."

Yes, you can trust me, he thought. Maybe you can even guess why I want to stay alive.

He turned off the screen. Nancy would brush him out of her thoughts. The others who would go on doing her work would be gratified to learn that a nameless one of their number had already received payment for his service to the Nomarchies.

David was probably still at the house giving comfort, pretending to the grief that Constance felt. Chen put his palms against the desk. Perhaps the man would forget his role as a Counselor and would comfort Constance in her room. Chen thought not; even David would not care to linger in that house.

He waited, staring past the chairs lined up on the other side of the desk at the door. Eric had come to that room; perhaps he had even pleaded with David for one more chance to save his business before trying to strike out at the Counselor.

At last the door opened. David started as he saw Chen behind the desk. "You shouldn't be here, lad," the Counselor said. "The door was locked. How did you—"

"I put in the lock."

"Yes, of course, I know you've done repairs here, but—" The door slid shut behind David. "You oughtn't to alter the—" The man's muddy brown eyes widened with comprehension.

"Murderer," Chen said.

"You're the one they sent."

"Murderer."

"Listen, I—" David stiffened as Chen held one hand over the desk. "You don't understand. I tried to tell him that we couldn't let him stay here, that already we were going to have to cover Fatima Miriam's debts until he earned enough to pay them back. How was I to know he cared so much about that shop?"